Coconut & Cherries
by WorldlessTraveller
Summary: A missing conversation between Matt Murdock and Karen Page. Takes place about six months after the end of Daredevil Season 2 and before the start of Defenders.


_**This is a little piece that takes place six months after the Daredevil Season 2 finale and before the start of Defenders. It's my "missing conversation" between Matt and Karen, after his big reveal. Thank you for reading!**_

She was sitting there, across from him in the greasy diner, on the ripped vinyl seat, all shiny and bright and clean…and he was broken.

"Matt?"

He looked up at her; the habit of turning to face a speaker was one his father had made sure he never lost in the brief window of time between his catastrophic accident and his father's death. What had she been saying? He didn't want to admit to her that he hadn't been listening.

"I'm sorry—"

"Your favorite words."

He could hear the smile in her voice, and he reflexively smiled in response. "I…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say to her. She'd accepted the truth about his alter ego so much more easily than Foggy had. Not that he'd ever blamed Foggy. After all, they'd known each other for more than a decade, and he'd been lying to him every day of it. Foggy had called him 'brother' on more than one occasion, and not just when they'd been stumbling back to their dorm, or later their crappy apartment, drunk.

No, Foggy had assimilated him into his chaotic family with an easiness that Matt had never known. It was the first time in his life, or at least since his dad died, that he'd felt like he belonged. Of course, after the big reveal, nothing had been the same, and still wasn't the same. Matt could still hear the hurt and betrayal in his best friend's voice, even two years later. Foggy had come around to a degree after Elektra's death and had proven, once again, that he was a better human being that Matt could ever hope to be.

"Did you wanna talk? Your voicemail said you wanted to talk to me, but if you don't, that's okay." Karen's soft voice pulled him back to the present.

"I just wanted to see you. I've missed you." He didn't know how to tell her that since Elektra's death, he'd found himself adrift.

He could hear the catch in her breathing, even without his super senses.

"Matt, I'm sorry about your girlfriend. Truly. I am."

Matt nodded and focused on his coffee cup. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to let it out, but he couldn't. First of all, it was beyond cruel and unfair to unload his emotional Elektra-baggage on Karen. Hell, she'd walked in on them when Elektra had been recuperating in his bed. He didn't have to guess her emotions that day—he'd felt it in her racing heartbeat and the heat in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry she's dead. So sorry." He could hear the catch in his own voice and cleared his throat. "She had a lot more to give to the world that she thought."

"She had you."

Karen had spoken softly, but the words still caught him like a right hook. "No. She didn't. We tried. I guess in some ways, we'd seem like a good fit—"

"Yeah, Foggy mentioned that you both were trained by the same man."

Matt clenched his jaw tight. He supposed he had no right to tell Foggy what he could and couldn't talk about, but still, this felt like a confidence broken.

"We weren't the same, though. Fundamentally, it always came down to that."

"What was the difference?"

Matt exhaled, long and slow. "There are things I can't do…won't do."

"So the devil has a conscience?"

He could hear the teasing note in her voice and decided that maybe lightening up the conversation was a good idea. He didn't like to revisit his near crossing-of-the-line the night we went to kill Fisk.

"Sometimes." He smiled, hoping to ease the tension. "Hey, I read your article. You're really doing amazing work. I'm proud of you, Karen."

"Thanks." She smiled and reached for his hand. She was a toucher, he remembered. She needed contact, and for that, he'd always been grateful. In his solitary existence, he'd sometimes longed for gentle contact. He could feel the heat of her blood and the softness of her skin.

"I heard about the pro bono cases your taking. That's really great, Matt. I mean it."

"Yeah well, I still wanted to do some good. At least where I can."

"So, you're not doing the other…stuff, anymore?" She asked; her voice dropping to a whisper.

"No. Not…right now."

"Why?"

Why, indeed? Well, what exactly should he start with? The conflict of vigilante justice? The meting out of punishment based solely on his scale? Or maybe the fact that his hands shook and his heart beat wildly every time he even thought about putting on the suit? Or maybe that the ringing in his ears and the chronic migraines were only growing worse.

"I…just need to stop…for a while."

"I understand." She squeezed his hand and then released it. "I never was mad about what you did. You know that, right Matt? I understood." She laughed quietly to herself. "I didn't like it once I knew it was you. I worried about you, but I always understood. I mean, if I had your…gifts, I'd probably be doing the same thing."

Matt waved his hand in the air, trying to clear the heaviness he felt all around him. His gifts had been a blessing…and a curse. Would he really be better off without them? He thought back to the day his hearing had cut out on him completely. It had been the single most terrifying moment of his entire life.

"I…"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." He answered as he cleared his throat. He started to rise. "We should probably get the check."

He waited by the side of the table, but Karen hadn't moved. She was watching him, he realized. Seeing way more than he'd intended…more than anyone usually saw.

"I'm okay, Karen. Really."

Finally, she slid out of her side of the booth with a swish. He listened and felt the air as she swirled her coat and slid her arms into the sleeves. The material sounded expensive. He couldn't resist reaching out and touching it.

"Burberry. Second hand, but still way beyond my budget."

"I'm sure it looks great."

Karen looked down at her chic, charcoal gray coat with the big black buttons. It was warm and comfortable, but that wasn't why she bought it. It was because it made her feel important, or something. At least it washed away the feelings of a little girl who dug through donation bins back in Vermont.

"Thanks."

"Should we go?" He asked and gestured.

"Sure."

Outside on the sidewalk, the two faced off, both waiting for the other to begin. Finally, Matt spoke first.

"I guess I'd better get back. I have a new client coming in—"

"I'm here. You know that, right? I'm still here, if you need me." She interrupted.

Matt stood still. He wanted to say so many things to her. His world had fallen apart-again-when he'd held Elektra's dying body in his arms. He'd needed her then. Of course he could understand the ridiculousness of voicing that need. How did you ask your former girlfriend to comfort you when your former, former/current love died? What a question. Still, he'd grieved alone. Again. He'd learned to put up walls since the day his father had died and he'd been placed into the custody of the Saint Agnes Orphanage.

"I'd better go, Karen. I have a case to prepare for."

Karen nodded, but said nothing as emotions clogged her throat. She simply reached out and pulled him to her tightly. She wanted to tell him, once again, that he wasn't alone. She was here. She hoped he got the message, even if her words never made it out of her mouth.

It was almost midnight, but sleep wouldn't find him. Of course it was hard to fall asleep when you were standing in front of an open window on a freezing cold night. Matt at least had the good sense to put on a thick sweatshirt. His fingers itched to open that trunk and take out his suit, but instead he stayed inside. His head was pounding with yet another migraine and he couldn't deny his hands were a little less steady than they'd been earlier. Of course it was probably all the caffeine he'd ingested in an attempt to kill the headache. At least, he'd hoped it was that.

So, instead of going out there and delivering justice his way, he stayed inside and listened to the sounds of the city around him. Thankfully, the cold kept the crime rate a bit lower than usual, but still he could hear them. The cries for help, the pain, the pleading…

He closed his eyes and listened. If he couldn't help them, at least he could bear witness to their pain. It was while he was concentrating that he heard the taxi out front of his building and then the familiar voice of Karen Page speaking to the driver. Matt smiled, knowing she was coming to see him, even knowing he was probably going to go another few verbal rounds with her before the night was over.

He walked to the door and pushed the buzzer, opening the outside door to her, even before she had a chance to buzz him first.

He opened the door and listened to her footsteps on the stairs.

"You changed out of your heels." He commented as she slipped past him. He inhaled the unmistakable scent of her coconut shampoo.

"Oh, yeah." She said a little breathlessly as she entered his apartment. "I'm not looking much like a reporter at the moment, I guess."

"I suppose I'm not looking much like a lawyer, either." He smiled as he made his way to the kitchen. "Wanna drink?"

"Sure."

Karen didn't specify what she wanted, so Matt went with beer. He popped the tops and then moved to the open window where she stood.

"Here you go."

"Thanks." She took a long pull from the bottle.

"So."

"Aren't you cold?"

"Not really."

"Can I shut it?"

"Sure." Matt moved to the couch and listened as Karen slid the window closed. She turned to face him, but stayed where she was, leaning on the window sill.

"Is everything okay?"

Karen laughed a little. "Now that I'm actually here, I'm kind of losing my nerve."

"Your nerve to do what?" Matt wanted to go to her, to hold her, but instead he stayed put.

"I wanted to tell you…at the diner. God, I thought it would be easier." She laughed, self-consciously. "This. Us. If you still want to…" She trailed off softly and turned her head away toward the kitchen. She couldn't bear to look at him.

Now Matt rose and slowly walked toward her. "Are you saying…" He gestured with one hand between the two of them, "…you and me?"

"Yeah," she whispered, finally looking up into those ruby red lenses.

"I didn't think that you wanted…me." He said, not realizing just how much he'd revealed.

Karen watched a myriad of emotions cross his usually controlled face. For just a second, she thought she saw the boy in him, so open, so earnest. The "before" version of Matthew Murdock. Well, she thought, there was definitely a "before" version of Karen Page, too.

"I did. I do. I never really stopped, Matt. I just figured I had to let you go…after _her_."

Matt could hear the break in her voice and knew how hard it was for Karen to voice that particular fear. Hell, she was right to be concerned. Elektra was so many things. She was everything, and nothing. The brightest light, and the deepest black hole. She'd stolen a part of him when she'd died and some days he didn't know how could continue to breathe knowing she was gone forever.

"She's dead, Karen."

"I know." She rushed to say it. She hated being jealous of a dead woman. Even after all this time, she knew that this Elektra had a hold on him that she could never break. Foggy had told her some of it, but it sounded so ludicrous that she'd had trouble understanding.

"I just wasn't sure you wanted to…try again. With me." She said reaching for him. She could feel the shutter in her heart as her hand made contact with his chest. Even through his sweatshirt, she could feel the heat of his skin.

"I'm not… like she was, or the way you are. I don't know if it'll be enough—"

"I want you." He would've laughed at his own lack of verbal finesse if he hadn't been operating at such a base level at the moment. The scent of her flushed skin swirled around him and left him intoxicated. He wanted her. He needed her.

Matt reached forward and put a hand behind her head and gently pulled her to him. He met her lips with his own and kissed her. The memories of their last kiss filled his senses as he tasted the sweetness of cherries on her lips. His other hand found her arm and then snaked its way up her neck. She was so slender, but he knew not to doubt her ferocity. Finally, he pulled back.

"Are you sure about this? About me? I—"

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, just stop." She said as she licked her slightly swollen lips.

"What am I thinking, Ms. Page?"

"That you're a mess and maybe it's too much for me to handle?"

Matt sobered. "Yeah. Something just like that."

"I can handle it. I can handle you."

"Maybe you shouldn't have to."

"I'm damaged too, Matt. I don't think anybody makes it out unscathed."

Matt stepped back and assessed her. There was honesty in her words and her pulse was fast, but steady. There was something there, he realized. Something more she was hiding. He wanted to push her and know all her secrets, but that would mean revealing his own, too. Maybe one day they'd get there, but that day was not today. No, today was about coconut shampoo, cherry lip gloss and coming home.


End file.
